I was bitter, but now I'm better

Thank you all and sundry, for your many kind words and reassuring sentiments, they mean so much to me. You have helped restored some of my optimism in the belief that, well, maybe it's just meant to be, that there's a reason for everything, and I just don't know what it is yet.

And there are still options. There's still hope for Rochester and Columbia. There's always exchange (which my parents are far keener on) or grad school. And in the meantime, I am happy at Melbourne and know I'm in a good place, both in terms of a university and my own life.

So thank you all for your encouragement, it's really helped me "get over it" these past few days when I've felt alone and miserable. If course, it still hurts, but that is to be expected. I just don't burst into tears any more at the thought of it...

And because my creative writing tute is next, I'm going to publish a little prose and poetry that I wrote about that "h o l y s h i t" feeling I had when I went to Hawaii last year; basically a feeling of nerves, excitement and anticipation.

***

The gate is a gathering of goodbyes. Of hugs, of teary eyes, of last advice. My father instils in me once again the importance of not losing either - or, God forbid, both - of my passports. He checks my list of emergency phone numbers that cross continents, as I will, and quizzes me on my "landing procedure." My mother reminisces about her first overseas trip alone, at the age of 24. I am but 17. Too young for many other things, but old enough to take care of myself.
Anticipation tickles my insides. I am new to this, and yet such a very old hand. I tell myself I can do this for the first time, again.

***

"Don't lose your passports,"
are my father's parting words.
"Call us when you get there.
And hide your passports."

"We'll miss you,"
my mother says,
looking as if
she might cry.

I feel the prickle of tears, too
as I walk down the boarding ramp
out of sight
onto the plane.

But independence sweeps down beside me,
gives me a fierce, bracing hug
and says
"We're in this together, you know."

I am grateful for the company
on this nine hour flight.

The whole paradox of the prose is that while I've been to Hawaii nearly every second Christmas since I was born to visit family with my parents and brother, this was (in a way) an entirely new experience, because it was by myself. Though I knew very well what I would have to do, I'd have to do it alone.

The idea of the poem is that my independence gave me courage.

***

The sky is crying.
Is someone up there sad, too,
that my dream won't come true?

Inspired by the fact that it is raining, right now, and how I've been feeling in recent days.

***

And now, to class. What a hectic life I lead.

x
Just a girl